


Where We Are

by winterwaters



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU with children, Because I can, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Future Fic, I just have too many feels, I was in a mood, everyone's basically preggers and happy, having mommy and daddy bellarke feels, seriously though, some Linctavia too, this is a gross level of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 16:50:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3216383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwaters/pseuds/winterwaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We’re going to shatter that stupid one-child rule over and over again,” Clarke whispers in his ear that night, and Bellamy somehow falls even more in love with her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where We Are

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this before last night's ep, not expecting to need such a high dose of fluff so soon. I should have known better. PS I need to stress how majorly AU this is. I just got obsessed with the idea of Clarke wanting to break the one-baby rule for Bellamy.

Bellamy’s not even sure if they’re really married, to be honest. He isn’t sure what counts as marriage down on Earth, and he can’t see how it’s even necessary, what with all the other things the time could be spent doing. It’s almost laughable that they even agree to a small ceremony. After everything they’ve been through, he knows they’re in this together.

He doesn’t need anyone else to tell him that he and Clarke are forever.

But it’s moreso his sister’s insistence than anything else that gets him. 

“You saw _me_ get married, big brother. Are you going to deprive me of a chance to do the same?”

Her question is accompanied by a wide-eyed gaze and quivering lip that only make him laugh harder. 

“Come on, O. Way to overdo the theatrics.”

But hell if something in him doesn’t stir at the thought of maybe, just maybe, doing one damn thing right in this life.

Plus, he figures doing something is better than nothing at all, and quite frankly he also looks forward to sticking it to Abigail Griffin by making it as official as possible.

Clarke doesn’t seem to care either way, though she can’t quite hide her amusement when he explains his reasoning. "Please let me be there when you call her mom," she whispers as they walk to the small meadow. He barely manages to restrain his snort before they step into the clearing.

The whole thing actually turns out to be as simple as he could have hoped for. It’s a mix of Grounder and Ark customs, which somehow feels strangely right. They don't have rings. They don't need them. It's Octavia who surprises them with small tokens. She places a lopsided crown of flowers atop Clarke's hair, and Bellamy is momentarily transfixed by the sight. Clarke's surprised grin fades into something soft when she peeks up at him. Then Lincoln's holding out two identical leather wristbands, deep brown like the soil after a hard rain. A gift, from the Commander. 

Bellamy exchanges a glance with Clarke before taking a band and slipping it over her wrist. He leaves his finger trapped between the leather and her skin a moment longer, feeling the pulse trip under his touch. She returns the favor with a grin that makes Bellamy want to sweep her back to their bed right then and there. 

There’s an exchange of a few quick words, simple promises that he and Clarke have already made to each other countless times. But he can’t quite help that his voice is a little louder, a little clearer, and when she repeats the same lines with a small smile and a steady voice his heart gives a flutter all the same. 

From the corner of his vision he sees Abby wipe hastily at her eyes, and he stands a little taller.

When it’s over, they’re ambushed with hugs by the few people in attendance; the only people he really needed to see. The camp continues on as if nothing has changed, because really nothing has. 

They’ve always been a team.

And little does he know his co-leader has a new goal of her own.

“We’re going to shatter that stupid one-child rule over and over again,” Clarke whispers in his ear that night, and Bellamy somehow falls even more in love with her.

~~~~~~~~~~

True to her word, she’s pregnant by the next spring. Bellamy’s whole world flips on its axis, all his thoughts consumed by the thought of Clarke carrying his child. Only days in, she warns him not to treat her delicately or she’ll have to remind him just who he’s dealing with.

He does so anyways, and no amount of glaring or cursing does anything to stop him.

At night he kisses her still-flat belly and nuzzles her skin with the stubble on his jaw until she laughs. The first time he sees the small swell of her stomach, he thinks his heart stops. Aside from Clarke’s reassurances, it’s the first proof he’s had at all that this life is real.

He’s talking to her swollen belly randomly one day when she stutters and shifts. He looks up in concern only to see her eyes bright and happy. Clarke takes his hand in hers and flattens it against her skin.

“Keep going,” she urges.

So he does, talking about the way the heat seems like it’s started earlier this year and how they should probably store the furs away before- 

His voice cuts off abruptly when he feels a small kick. He stares in shock, barely breathing, until Clarke pokes him with a smile. His words trip over each other in their haste to leave his mouth, desperate to feel the movement again. When he does, he shudders and lays his head against her stomach, quite content to stay there for the rest of time.

They don’t agree on the gender. Clarke insists it’s a girl; Bellamy is certain it’s a boy. They argue over the color of his hair, the shade of her eyes, whether she’ll be loud and demanding or if he’ll be shy and quiet. Bellamy has never gathered more berries in his life. One thing is certain: the kid has a sweet tooth.

Somehow Clarke manages to be smug even as she’s lying sweaty and exhausted on the cot as the summer heat is at its peak. (If he was able to think straight, he wouldn’t actually be so surprised.)

“It’s a girl.”

“She’s blonde,” he replies. He hasn’t stopped cradling the small bundle for a moment.

He eases down next to her and Clarke lays her head against his shoulder, reaching out to stroke the tiny form. She’s not a particularly loud thing, not like Bellamy expected. All she has to do is look at him with those wide dark eyes and he’s at her beck and call.

Not unlike her mother, he thinks wryly.

He’s surprised at how easily his heart stretches to accomodate a new love. He didn’t know he had so much left to give.

They call her Laini. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Not surprisingly, she wins the heart of just about everyone in the camp. In the beginning, Bellamy’s entire days are filled with her and Clarke, doting on them endlessly until Clarke has to finally kick him out of their hut with the threat of taking the baby to the council meeting unless he gets his ass there in five seconds. 

Slowly, they both manage to continue being camp leaders in their own ways. Yet Bellamy finds he’s not as reluctant to spread the duties around now. Having something - some _one_ \- to go home to has changed his perspective rather quickly.

One night, as a cool breeze lies in the air, Clarke rests her chin on his chest with a glint in her eye. “How much longer do you want to wait?”

“Princess,” he sighs. “You don’t have to.”

Her answering kiss is rough and biting and deep, making his head swim. Pointedly, she asks, “How long?”

Bellamy’s hand trails up and down her side lazily. Her body is stronger and yet more supple all at once. He’ll never get enough.

“If you’re ready,” he finally meets her eyes, “then so am I.”

It’s still a while before they begin trying in earnest. For some time, they simply bask in being able to enjoy each other. He maps out her body with his mouth and hands like he’s never seen it before. Which, in some respects, he hasn’t.

By the time Clarke’s pregnant again, Bellamy’s not only a father anymore. 

He’s also an uncle.

Octavia smiles up at him the first time he holds the small form in his arms. “He looks like you,” he tells her. “A little bit like mom, too.”

“Yeah? Good. I hope she can see this,” she sighs.

He grasps her hand. “She can.”

Lincoln lets her choose the name, his eyes widening when she promptly answers with Kai. (Bellamy later learns the name is shared with Lincoln’s mother, Kaiya.) 

Lincoln nearly dwarfs the baby, so large and strong is his grip. But Bellamy doesn’t miss the tenderness of his movements, the awe on his face as their eyes catch and hold. In that, they understand each other.

Clarke’s second pregnancy is similar to the first. The same current of joy runs through Bellamy when he sees her swollen stomach; the same terrifying fear gnaws that something might go wrong at any moment. She stays on her feet longer this time, bustling about camp and giving out orders while her clipboard rests on her rounded belly. When Bellamy’s not hovering by her side, someone else usually is, despite her loud protests.

It turns out they’re all besotted by the idea of their princess being pregnant again.

Laini’s a little over a year old now, running every which way on wobbly legs. Bellamy often walks around with her on his shoulders, endlessly marveling at how much she’s grown in such a short time.

He stops by the medical unit more often now. Even when Clarke isn’t there, her mother is, and nothing lights up Abby’s face like the sight of her granddaughter. She and Bellamy even manage to hold a conversation-usually revolving entirely around the children, but it’s a conversation nonetheless-and when Clarke enters and sees them talking and playing with Laini, the tears leak from her eyes faster than she can wipe them away.

This time they’re both convinced it’s a boy. Part of it is the sheer number of kicks and amount of food she’s consuming. The other part of it is just a feeling.

Miloh’s born in the heart of winter, on a frozen day when the wind whistles through the trees and cuts into Bellamy’s skin where it isn’t covered by layers of clothing.

He’s pale, so pale that at first Bellamy is worried something isn’t right. But then the small bundle rests against Clarke and he can’t help but laugh at how their skin tones blend together. Proudly, he notes the shock of dark hair peeking out from the blanket.

Clarke has never liked winter until now.

~~~~~~~~~~

On a warm summer night they’re sitting with their friends by the fire, their hands empty of kids for once thanks to voluntary babysitters Abby and Kane.

Raven, as usual, has no filter. “So what do you think, Clarke? Got another one in you?”

Bellamy rolls his eyes and slings an arm around Clarke’s shoulder. “Easy, Reyes. She only just had Miloh a few months ago.”

“I’m just saying. We’ve already got several kids running around. What’s one more?”

It seems everyone has been pretty eager to break that one-child rule. And even though it means more mouths to feed, nobody's really complaining.

Miller laughs. “I think it’s more about if Bellamy can survive another round.”

Bellamy’s glare is weakened by the fact that it’s true. For all the wonder that her pregnancy brings, it also comes with a neverending wave of concern on his part.

Though, he muses later, it’s much like everything else in this life they’ve built. No light without the dark.

They’re well into the next winter when Bellamy feels the familiar press of her lips to his shoulder in the middle of the night. He twists and takes Clarke into his arms, their mouths fitting together in easy comfort. For once, things are silent and it’s just them again, wrapped in each other.

“That’s two now,” Clarke grins against his mouth.

“That’s enough,” he protests.

She only shakes her head, winding her hands around his neck and shifting on his lap as she kisses him until they have no breath left.

“Clarke,” he begins, but she shushes him with a palm over his mouth.

“The Ark restricted pregnancy for population control. That's all,” she insists. "Plus, we have Grounder medicines at our disposal now too."

“I know that. But aren’t you… you’ve already carried _two._ ” It's not as if he can offer to take her place. The thought makes him frown again. Bellamy hates feeling useless, especially when it comes to her.

Clarke sees the look on his face and gently kisses the corner of his mouth. “Are you only objecting because you're worried about me?”

She knows she has him when he sighs and presses his face into her neck. Her hands comb through his hair as her lips brush against his ear.

“I want this,” she says quietly. “I want _us._ ”

Of course he gives in.

What he doesn’t see coming is Octavia’s second pregnancy. With her and Clarke suddenly on a similar schedule, Bellamy thinks there’s a good chance he might die of worry before either kid is born.

Lincoln appears to be in a similar state of panic. (Bellamy pretends it doesn’t make him feel better. It does.)

One day the other man appears with a length of thick fabric knotted together in a makeshift sling. Bellamy hesitates only for a moment before letting Lincoln fasten around his middle. Suddenly Miloh’s wiggling form becomes much easier to manage, resting against his chest while Laini clings to his leg. He grasps Lincoln’s hand in relief and gratitude.

Clarke nearly keels over when she sees Bellamy, still with Miloh in the sling, sending off a patrol and giving orders to the guards for the next watch. He's just finished scolding a junior guard for being caught asleep when she marches up to him beaming brighter than the sun, wraps her arms around his neck, and plants a hard kiss on his mouth that makes his vision spin.

It eventually occurs to him to tell her that the sling was Lincoln’s idea. 

His nephew, meanwhile, seems to have inherited Octavia’s free spirit - not hard to guess, with the way his small legs seem to carry him into all the wrong places. Bellamy looks at her pointedly one day as she passes by, one hand on her ever-growing stomach, the other holding onto the little boy who’s tugging her along eagerly.

“You know this is payback, right?”

She sticks her tongue out. “Speak for yourself, big brother. Are those grey hairs I see?” She laughs.

(He knows they are.)

Clarke’s belly protrudes more and more until she’s no longer able to stand for long periods of time without her ankles swelling up. Bellamy soaks her feet in warm water at night, massaging the tender skin gently.

To their surprise, Laini’s small hands reach out from his lap to mimic his motions, and he grins up at Clarke. 

“Looks like we’ve got another healer in the family."

This time they don’t argue about the traits of the unborn child, simply content when Abby reports after each checkup that both mother and baby are healthy and on track.

Octavia goes into labor first. Bellamy’s not allowed to see her for several hours, though that doesn’t stop him from pacing outside the tent as Clarke sits on a bench chewing her lip. Now and then he stops to adjust the heavy blanket around her against the autumn chill. 

Finally they hear a wail that is distinctly higher and definitely not female, and they both grin. Lincoln pokes his head out a few minutes later and ushers them inside to meet the latest addition to the family.

The leaves are bright shades of red and gold when Miller finds him in the forest a little over a week later. Bellamy takes one look at his face and sprints back to camp, immediately heading for the medical tent. Clarke’s eyes find his as she tries to control her breathing. Her hand clamps onto his and doesn’t let go.

“When you’re pissed at me in a minute, remember this was your idea,” Bellamy mutters.

Clarke’s breath escapes in something like a laugh. And even though they’ve been through this twice already, Bellamy finds himself still gripping her hand tightly and saying prayers he didn’t even know he still remembered. He brushes what he hopes is a soothing hand over her hair until he hears the soft tell-tale cries. Clarke collapses against him, their sighs of relief mingling together.

“Another girl.” Abby hands the baby over with a smile. 

Clarke rocks the newborn gently. “She looks so much like you,” she says to him.

“With blue eyes,” he responds, touching a tiny finger.

“And your forehead and cheeks and nose, and chin...” She's slightly in awe.

Bellamy laughs and holds them both close. It’s a few days before they decide on a name, but when they find it, they know it’s right.

Charlotte is the subject of much adoration and curiosity from her older brother and sister, especially towards the end of her first year, when they begin to notice a dusting of freckles on her chubby cheeks.

“You’re going to help me and your mother take care of her,” he tells Miloh one day. The boy nods solemnly before Laini all but crashes into Bellamy’s side.

“And I’ll take care of you all,” she announces.

Bellamy laughs and picks her up, throwing her in the air and catching her again as she squeals. “Sounds like a deal, munchkin.” He kisses her noisily until familiar slender arms slip around his waist.

“I want a kiss too,” Clarke grins plaintively from under her lashes.

He’s not fooled one bit. He drops a chaste kiss on her cheek, chuckling at her immediate pout, then plants a longer one on her lips until she sighs.

They’ve done more than kiss later that night as they lie twined together under the blankets. Clarke’s hair creates a curtain as she leans over him, peppering soft kisses to his jaw.

“Now we have one for each season,” she grins. “Almost.”

But he’s already shaking his head firmly. “Don’t even bother. You won’t win this time, princess.”

Unfazed, she tucks herself more snugly into his side. “Okay. I’ll let you have this one.”

He chuckles and presses his lips to her hair, her forehead, her cheeks, before tilting her head up to capture her mouth softly. 

She’s given him more than he could have ever imagined; more than he would ever dare to ask for. And now he’ll spend the rest of his life taking care of their family here on Earth.

It’s certainly not a future Bellamy ever imagined for himself, but it’s the only one he ever wants.

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you liked this. Btw, I'm notmylady on tumblr if anyone wants to talk ever :) we are in for the slowest of slow burns friends!


End file.
